


(got me on my knees) Arya

by theelusiveflamingo



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - 1970s, F/M, Inspired by Music, Underage But Whatever
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:10:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 899
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3375920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theelusiveflamingo/pseuds/theelusiveflamingo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If a man were not a man he might think twice about what he does, but a man is one who calls himself Jaqen H’ghar, and a man who calls himself Jaqen H’ghar has a mind so finely tuned that he never has to think more than once.  Sometimes he does not even have to think at all.  When he parks his motorcycle in the garage of an abandoned house two blocks away from where a girl lives, and tucks his freshly-dyed hair under the hood of his jacket so he is not seen and lopes to the oak tree under a girl’s window with the album tucked under his arm, a man does not think at all.  A man is a freshly-tuned instrument, his senses leading him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	(got me on my knees) Arya

It is December, 1970 and  _Layla and Other Assorted Love Songs_ has just been released.  A man has little money to spare, but a man lays out the bills on the battered wooden counter of the record shop and wades patiently through the clerk’s  _German?—East or West?—Did you climb over the Wall? Did they shoot you?_ without even being tempted to think of the knife tucked into his boot.  A man is fond of the guitarist and the way he makes sounds have colors and textures a man has never even seen or touched in all his years; even through the poor quality of the pirated EPs a man once had, a man was entranced by the magic.  And, what’s more, a man knows a girl will love it.

If a man were not a man he might think twice about what he does, but a man is one who calls himself Jaqen H’ghar, and a man who calls himself Jaqen H’ghar has a mind so finely tuned that he never has to think more than once.  Sometimes he does not even have to think at all.  When he parks his motorcycle in the garage of an abandoned house two blocks away from where a girl lives, and tucks his freshly-dyed hair under the hood of his jacket so he is not seen and lopes to the oak tree under a girl’s window with the album tucked under his arm, a man does not think at all.  A man is a freshly-tuned instrument, his senses leading him.

A girl loves her album, just as a man knew she would.  A girl plays it on her turntable as a girl and a man kiss each other on a girl’s bed.  A girl is bold about this, much more bold than a man has ever been before when faced with the feelings he feels now.  A girl gets off the bed and lifts the needle to play the song again.  A girl whispers as a man nestles his head back in the crook where a girl’s neck meets her shoulder and smells himself on her skin.   _Does this make you think of me?  Do you think Arya instead of Layla?_ A girl laughs at the thought of a grown man so lovesick.  A man does not laugh.  A man does not laugh because a man knows the answer.  A man has felt so many things; he has seen and done them, but he has not felt this before, ever, this desire to kiss and hold and be kissed and held, to do things and to have things done to,  _got me on my knees, Arya_ , of course a man thinks Arya every time, but a girl must not know.

A man thinks of a girl always.  A girl has been a part of him since the day a man happened to walk by a protest and pull her away from a sea of policemen, since the hours they spent afterward in the diner talking of a girl’s brother Robb and how he’d died  _senselessly_ a million time and climate zones away from those who loved him, since the park bench at half-past one with the stars out and the world still where a man had told her that a man did not think any death was senseless.  A man thinks of a girl’s anger, of her confusion; a man felt that too, once, before he knew Death.  A man thinks of the solemn beauty of a girl’s long face and the depth in her grey eyes.  A man thinks of a girl always, always.

A girl’s mother knocks on the door and asks a girl to turn the music down.  A man smiles.  A man must have had a mother, once, or else a man would not even  _be_ , but a man cannot remember anything about her.  A girl’s life is comforting to a man, even the parts about it she does not like.  A girl groans and snaps something back.  A man does get down on his knees, then, dangling a girl’s legs off the bed and pulling her pants down with him.  A man nestles his face again, this time between a girl’s legs, and a man begins to kiss once more, this time between a girl’s legs.  A man has heard, in the past, other men complain of the taste of girls, but all a man tastes as he kisses and licks between a girl named Arya’s legs are ginger and cloves, the way a man smells, the way a man smells on a girl’s skin and sheets. 

A girl tells him to stop  _just for a second, I want to play the song again,_ and as a girl gets up and leaves a man waiting and wanting, gathering his long hair back a ponytail so nothing gets between him and a girl, she teases him again.   _See, look, you’re on your knees.  This song makes you think of me._

_Like a fool, I fell in love with you, turned my whole world upside down._ A man’s world has never been anything but upside down, and he smiles as a girl throws herself back onto her bed and he grabs her by her hips and pulls her forward again.  If a girl turns upside-down upside-down, then what she has really done is turn it right-side up.

 


End file.
